Hurricanrana Katrina
by Failure Turtle
Summary: After Edge and Jericho retire, they each write a tell-all book. The books aren't about wrestling. They are about their greatest enemy, each other. EdgexOCxJericho
1. Edge: 1

**A/N: I decided to use my bad energy radiating from my insanely bad mood tonight to write a new story. Edge and Jericho will trade off chapters, and this is in the form of a book they would write after they retired.**

_**Edge**  
Rated-R Era  
Chapter 1_

Why are you even bothering to read this? My guess is that you weren't even a fan of mine back in my prime. Yes, I was hated, but I was merely doing my job. Am I supposed to hate the mailman for bringing me my bills? You're probably thinking something along the lines of, _Edge, that is a horrible analogy_. No, that's actually a _perfect_ analogy.

Most of you hate me not for what you have seen on television, but for…well…okay, most of it _was_ carelessly plastered on television for the world to see. Is that my fault? Maybe if it was, oh, I don't know…Maybe if the tables had been turned, you wouldn't be as angry. If I was with Lita to begin with, and Matt Hardy weaseled in and stole her from under my nose, you wouldn't hate him. It's not my fault that the woman I fell for was the girlfriend of the ultimate fan favorite (at the time). I'm sorry for that. I've gotten over it, and you should, too.

I promise you that I'm not really as evil as my onscreen persona has been for so many years. Would you like to know why I was like that on television? Well, because it was _fun_. Let me tell you, playing a heel on live television is one of the hardest things to do. It's one thing to get heat just by dissing the hometown football team. It's another to make the _world_ hate you in a sentence. It's an art that I'd like to say that I've mastered, but I don't think that's ever been achieved. Somehow, I do have loyal Edgeheads out there. No matter what, they just won't hate me. It kind of saddens me that my once powerful charisma couldn't break them, but everyone needs a fan or two thousand.

I've been booed out of arenas and cheered when the hero fell. New Year's Revolution 2006 was a great pay-per-view for me. I won my first WWE Championship, even though it only lasted a few weeks. As much as I wish that reign lasted a bit longer, I do think it was my most important title run ever. It showed that I could run with the big boys. We all know that I'm not exactly the buffest guy in the locker room. But it also showed me that I _do_ have a character. I _am_ worth something. I am a pretty huge draw. Playing a heel is my thing, even though it's hard. I am the reason that some people are instantly over with the crowd. If I'm the opponent, then they cheer the automatic hero on. It's like they're all thinking, "If you bring down Edge, you will be our King."

I have yet to find a male professional wrestler who has been given enough faith to take me down. My career has been like Undertaker's WrestleMania winning streak. It is possible that no one will ever come close to something like that ever again. It's also possible that I will always win in the end.

And yet, I say that no one could break me down in the professional world of wrestling. Backstage was another story. We had Triple H running around like he owned the place, and he almost did. We had John Cena sucking up to everyone. We had Batista whining and crying like a baby. I didn't understand it. Three men with no characters and minimal wrestling ability (and I can only freely say this now that I'm a retired wrestler) always seemed to be getting the top slots and longest title runs. Where was the sense in that? Triple H was still a nice guy, don't get me wrong. Cena had been a good friend for a few years, until we fell off. But, please, do not get me started on Dave Batista. That is another story for another time and another chapter.

But when it comes down to it, my greatest enemy in the WWE was not Matt Hardy. I won that battle. It was not Batista. I won that battle. It was not Undertaker. I won that overrun battle in the end, as well. It was not John Cena. Even though he won the initial feud, I won the overall war. I am the war general extreme of the WWE. My greatest enemy was one of my closest friends backstage.

It was Chris Jericho.

Did he win the feud? No, this feud was never televised, so I doubt that you would know the answer. Few people know about it, actually. The employees of the WWE had learned to keep their mouths shut after Matt Hardy went around whining about the whole situation with Lita, who I will from now on refer to with her proper name, Amy.

But, of course, the feud was over a girl. It was _always_ over a girl.

For those of you expecting an epic tale about the trials and tribulations of my last few years in the WWE before my retirement, then I highly suggest that you shut this book and pick up my first book, _Adam Copeland on Edge_. Sure, it's not about my final years, but it is closer to the subject matter that you are desiring.

This book is about a different side of Edge. This is the real Edge, Adam Copeland.


	2. Jericho: 1

**A/N: I hate serious Jericho.**

_**Jericho  
**__Fragile Walls  
__Chapter 1_

Am I more than just an amazing head of hair? Possibly not. It saddens me that the legacy of my on-the-top ponytail may live on longer than the legacy of my wrestling abilities and championship runs. Gone are the days of me being remembered as the first ever Undisputed Championship. Instead, losses to John Cena and title shots to Playboy Bunnies have replaced them.

It's a sad thing that professional wrestling has become.

I could quite possibly be the most colorful man to ever don a pair of spandex tights, or in the middle of my second run in the WWE, spandex tights. My sparkles are an ode to my colorful delight. But do I even deserve to go on?

I've been loved for most of my career. The end of the first run and the second run seem to have something in common: I've been hated.

Professional wrestling fans are a funny breed of humans, to be honest. They are the most hypocritical beings on earth. This shall tie into my previous statement of being hated. I was loved to no end during my first run. Y2J this and Y2J that. But then, I hit a road block aptly named John Cena. And as I feuded him, I was hated. Being hated was new territory for me. Even if I quoted some things I said when everyone loved me, I'd still get booed. What was the deal with that? And he "ended" my career in the WWE so I could pursue other options, as in writing and music.

But then you sorry people got bored with the monotony called John Cena. Everything was the same.

You _prayed_ that he never really ended my career. You hoped that you would wake up one day to see Ayatollah back on your screens, the King of the World back to rule your personal lives.

And that day came. I delivered. Jericho never fails.

So, I was loved for a while. I wanted to push my limits to see how faithful the realm of the Jerichoholics really was. But then I was forced into a storyline with quite possibly the greatest showman of all time, Shawn Michaels. Needless to say, I had the deck stacked against me, there.

It was a quick lesson for me to learn. No matter how awesome you think you are, there's _always_ someone better. I had always thought that I was always that better person.

How wrong I was, on more than one account.

Canadians always stick together. That's been the motto of myself and two of the most awesome guys I've ever met: Edge and Christian. We've been the best of friends through thick and thin.

Ever have a best friend stab you in the back, but yet you go on like nothing ever really happened?

Such is the tale of Edge and Jericho in recent years, after Christian was gone and no one cared about us anymore.


	3. Edge: 2

**A/N: Inspiration comes from sitting next to the window at my grandma's house while playing (as Edge) SmackDown vs. RAW. It seemed appropriate.**

_**Edge  
**Rated-R Era  
Chapter 2_

It's cold, autumn nights like these that remind me of why I'm a wrestling fan.

They remind me of the gray days I spent in my home country of Canada. They remind me of all I've been through while trying to make it to the big time. It's even better when it's just a gray evening with no snow, nothing to blanket the earth and the trees are bare. The world is at its core and you can see everything.

You might find it crazy, but I think that the colder times of the year are the best times to be a wrestling fan. Let me explain. It's cold outside, and the electric atmosphere of a wrestling event instantly jolts you up. Being a performer, it's amazing entering an arena from the cold, wintry outside and meandering around the drafty corridors. And then you hit that entrance ramp and BAM!

Your soul is on fire.

I think that the fans who are blessed enough to see live wrestling events in the winter are the luckiest. I appreciate the fact that they'll wait for hours in the blistering cold and snow just to see us. It's like Christmas, at least to me. It's like leaving a blizzard for the warm and comfort of a fireplace in a cabin.

But then there's another side to all of this. For one perfect moment, you're warm and content. But then...Then your best friend comes and stabs an icy knife in your back.

I'm sure you'd like to know about the girl in question who has stolen the heart of the Rated-R Superstar, but it is a name that you wouldn't know. She and I remain good friends to this day. All bad things blow over in the end, even though happy endings may not always be there.

Her name is Katrina. She worked as a production assistant for the WWE, and that's how we met. She started on SmackDown, and I was on that roster at the time. I believe she was twenty-five at the time, and I was thirty-five. A ten year age difference at that age doesn't seem like much, at least not to me. At first, Katrina told me I was too old for her. I suppose I could see now where she was coming from. I remember being that age, and I was in no way ready for a relationship with a thirty-five year old woman.

Please, do not throw the Vickie Guerrero storyline in my face. That's happened enough to me, and it's not as big of a deal as some people have made it out to be.

Going back to the whole winter thing, the seasons are like how my friendship with Chris Jericho has played out. Spring was his return. Summer, we were inseparable. Fall, everything crashed. Winter, we don't speak anymore.

I'm not going to lie, I do miss Chris dearly. But the thing is, we're so bitter about all of this. I'm sure that one day he'll read this and find out my true feelings on the matter, and it will be like we were never apart.

But sometimes, things aren't that simple.


End file.
